


even when we can't go home

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 18:52:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6021102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His companions leave one by one, until it's only Fenris, only him and Fenris.</p>
<p>Hawke fears the day that Fenris will leave, too.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Post-game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	even when we can't go home

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this immediately following my first playthrough... forgot about it for a few days, and finally got around to editing it (I'm such a forgetful nut.)
> 
> I do not own _Dragon Age II_. Thanks for reading!
> 
> ** Note that I did not have Isabela available in my playthrough - I lost her in Act II, so that's why she's not written in. ~~not making that mistake second playthrough~~

Anders was the first.

There was nothing that would have stopped him from leaving, and Hawke realized, when he found out, that he did not care.

They were on their first town outside of Kirkwall, a place they had barely dared to stop but Merrill had collapsed and was slung over Hawke's shoulder, and even Fenris bore a grimace on his face that was no longer from anger or disgust, but pain, and the limp he was trying to hide wasn't hidden anymore.

The former was exhausted from days on the road, days that bled into nights where they didn't stop - couldn't stop. The latter had denied Anders healing him. Said he'd rather suffer instead. Hawke had said nothing at the time, and while he had allowed Anders to heal his worst after that battle with Meredith, he had secretly agreed.

"Hawke."

Hawke jerked awake from an uncomfortable sleep, sparks flying in his hand. He barely slept these days, and if he did, it was uneasy, ready to spring into action at the smallest movement, ready to run. How different things had become from waking up in the bed in his manor, sunlight streaming in through the high windows and the skylights to bathe the rooms in soft, golden light.

The inn was dark, drab, and dirty, all six of them jambed into one room because they couldn't leave each other's side. The innkeeper hadn't asked, thank the Maker. Merrill and Varric had taken either of the beds, Aveline had refused to sleep, Anders lurked beneath the grimy window, and Fenris, still draped in a too large cloak to try and conceal the telltale lyrium markings and silver hair, had sank down against the wall near the door and refused to move.

After seeing that Aveline was tending to the Fenris's wounds, Hawke allowed himself to copy Fenris's movement, and sat down against the wall on the opposite side of the door. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, and yet...

"He's gone."

The shock of the statement had the magic dying at his fingertips. _Gone_ was too permanent a word, after what they had been through. For one frantic moment, Hawke's mind flew to Fenris, as it so often did, even before all of this fighting had begun.

But the elf was awake, holding himself up with the wall with murder in his eyes. Fenris only ever looked so livid rarely, and there was only one male in their company that could make him appear so angry.

Anders.

Anders was gone.

Hawke felt abruptly angry and exhausted again, all at once. He doubted he would ever feel differently when it came to his former friend.

What Anders had done had been... _abhorrent_. He had pushed them over the brink of war and killed innocents - allies, even. A war that had been in the making for years, true, but some part of Hawke still wanted to think that there had to have been some other way. _Something._ Maybe those were thin facts to grasp at, but he still felt that way.

In the end, he hadn't killed him, though. What good would it have done? He had chosen to side with the mages, and killing one more mage would have been pointless, even if he had done what he had done. He had needed a healer going into this stand-off with Meredith; Anders was better alive than dead for that. And maybe part of himself still blamed Justice, too. Hawke wasn't certain of anything, except that he had silently agreed with Varric: he was growing sick of templars and mages both.

Killing his friend would have been a waste of valuable time, and Hawke was already stretched thin enough as it was.

So, he had let him live.

"Did he take anything?" he asked tiredly, pressing his fingers against his eyes. They were still too close to Kirkwall, but he hadn't intended to stop Anders from doing whatever he had chose to do, after the battle. The fact that he had gone now was of his own choice.

"No. He left some poisons and potions, though."

Maker's breath, he needed to sleep. He dragged his hands from his face and held them up. "He can do what he wants. He always does, anyway."

"We should have killed him when we had the chance," Fenris growled.

Hawke turned to him wearily. "And add another body to the list of the dead? Enough mages - _and_ _templars_ \- died as it stands. Good people."

"Much better than the abomination."

"Yes," Hawke agreed simply. He couldn't argue about any of this, much less with Fenris. He turned to the others. "Get another hour of rest. We have some of the night left, but I want to go before dawn."

"I'll take watch this time," Varric said, getting to his feet.

"I can-" Hawke started, but Fenris cut him off.

"You need to sleep."

Hawke swiveled his attention back to him, lips tugging down into a now customary frown. "So do you," he retorted. "You're hurt."

"So are you," Fenris replied calmly.

Hawke almost opened his mouth to say that he wasn't - and he wasn't, anymore, not like Fenris was - but the critical look that the elf was giving him made him decide twice of it. He would not waste energy on this argument, either. "Everyone just get to sleep," he said with a tone of finality, and nodded at Varric to allow him to take watch. "We don't know when we'll have the chance again."

　

 

Aveline was the second.

It took them all by surprise when Donnic showed up, although no one more than Aveline herself.

When they had escaped Kirkwall, Hawke vaguely remembered her saying that she hadn't been able to find him. It hadn't meant much, there had been too much going on to find anybody, but it had probably been unsettling at the time. Hawke honestly couldn't remember. The hours that had followed the fight with Meredith were a blur, one that he had only been intent on getting them out alive in.

Now, a few weeks in, if Aveline had brought it up, Hawke would have had more mental acuity (although admittingly not much) to sit and talk with her about Donnic, but true to Aveline's nature, she had been focused only on the task that was at hand.

When they had discovered that someone was following them, Hawke had been in a moment of self-doubt; could they run from this? Forever? Would they follow them, forever?

He had never questioned his decisions more than he had these past few weeks, even if his companions gave him no reason to.

But it had turned out to be _Donnic_ , of all people. Aveline had stared in shock before she had gotten over it and went rushing to him, and Hawke's shoulders had sagged in relief. And he noticed the way that Fenris had been keeping the Blade of Mercy all too close to himself lately, and the way that his fingers trailed from the sword when they met their old friend.

They could relax... if only for a moment.

"I didn't believe it when I heard," Donnic said, passing Hawke the bottle. "Well, to be honest, I wasn't surprised it was _you_. But I didn't expect _Aveline_ to rise up against Meredith."

"I hadn't planned to," Aveline said shortly, and took the bottle when Hawke passed it to her. "But things changed. I'm glad that we did what we did."

"I'm glad, too," Donnic said seriously. "The town was in a horrible state. With Orsino gone, and Meredith dead, no one really knew what to do. But without someone to reinforce the Right of Annulment... many templars were already uneasy with Meredith's actions, and we knew that the fighting had to end. It took awhile. The city burned for days. I knew that if Aveline was with you, she'd be safe-"

"What does that mean?" Aveline interrupted.

Donnic looked at her.

"You think I can't take care of myself?" Aveline continued, crossing her arms.

She was happy.

Hawke could tell.

He wasn't sure what that feeling was like, anymore.

"I know that you can," Donnic replied calmly. "I just meant, two swords are better than one."

Varric nudged him. "Isn't this the part where you sarcastically say that you don't fight with a sword?"

Hawke smiled, but said nothing as he took another draw off the ale.

When it came time to keep moving, Aveline stayed with Donnic. Hawke was not surprised. He was glad that she was with her husband again. They were going to find a new home, apparently, until things settled down more. As it stood, it wasn't safe for any of them to return to Kirkwall now, but Hawke expected, more than anything, both Donnic and Aveline wanted to go home eventually.

He hoped that they all could.

　

 

Merrill was third.

It took longer than Hawke expected for the misguided elf to finally come to him with the proposition of leaving. Life on the road wasn't for her, and Hawke had seen it long before Merrill had accepted it.

"I think I would like to go to Tevinter," she said, wringing her hands. From the corner of his eye, Hawke saw Fenris's head rise from where it had been bent over their plate of whatever the hell animal it had been they'd eaten tonight. "Do you think it would be okay to go to Tevinter?"

Hawke set the miscellaneous junk he was sorting aside, and looked up at Merrill as she stood nervously in front of him. "If you want to go to Tevinter, Merrill, I think you should."

Merrill breathed out all in a rush. Her shoulders slumped and her hands ceased to twitch incessantly. Hawke was only vaguely amused that Merrill had been so nervous to bring it up.

"I mean, I don't want to go, I really don't," she aid. "You've all been so good to me throughout these years, even when..." She waved a hand, seeming reluctant to go there. Hawke hoped that the former Dalish _was_ reluctant to go there. He hoped that all of that was over, especially when Merrill was about to go off on her own. "But you're all my friends, I love you all so much." Her eyes were filling with tears, and Hawke rose to cut her off before she could go further.

He had not embraced anyone since saying goodbye to Aveline, and the motion of putting his arms around the female elf and tucking her close almost felt foreign.

"Whether together or apart, we will always be friends, Merrill," he said, after he pulled away. He held her at arms length, and ignored the ache in his throat. Emotion; he hadn't had time for that sort of emotion since they had left Kirkwall.

How much more difficult it was becoming to hold that emotion at bay. One day, he knew he would either end up yelling and cursing, or breaking apart with tears in his own eyes. He would rather the yelling and cursing.

He would take neither right now, however.

"What do you think, Fenris? Varric?" Merrill turned to their companions.

"Do as you wish," Fenris replied, monotone.

He and Hawke had not talked much since leaving Kirkwall. None of them had talked much, not about anything meaningful, and anything cheerful felt wrong to laugh over. Mostly it was tactic and war, and the lurking whispers that something was following them.

But Fenris seemed more reserved than usual, pulled into himself like he had in the old days. Hawke couldn't decide if it was a coping mechanism, or not. He couldn't bring himself to ask, either. Neither of them were good for advice, and Fenris wasn't the type to talk about his deeper thoughts if there wasn't a bottle of good alcohol somewhere nearby, anyway.

Hawke could have done with some of that good alcohol himself.

With such a large group at Hawke's command, it had been hard to procure any alone time with Fenris in any case. They always had to be on their guard, even when Hawke secretly wanted nothing more than to nudge his way into the circle of Fenris's arms like they had what felt like so long ago now.

"I think Tevinter will be a good place to start again, Daisy," Varric said. "They'll treat those with magic respectably, at least. Just don't forget your ball of twine, or you'll blunder around the Imperium for days."

Merrill laughed weakly. "Goodness, I can imagine. I'll be a nightmare starting out there! But I think I'll like it, it sounds... safe. Mostly. We'll all go back to Kirkwall eventually, right? We'll all meet up again, right?"

Hawke smiled wearily. "Of course we will." He had no energy to be making promises, but he did so, anyway. More than anything, he would have loved to return to Kirkwall. Lothering was long gone, but the infamous City of Chains had become his home. He wanted to go back, too.

 

 

Varric was fourth.

"Three's a crowd, Big Guy."

Hawke looked over at the dwarf, uncertain what he was talking about. "What?" He even glanced around himself; it was just him and Varric, cracking the shells of various nuts they had acquired for a treat in the past town. The fire was crackling as they sat under the rocky overhang. Fenris had gone to keep an eye out, on watch duty after their dinner.

"Don't _what_ me," Varric replied. "I'm writing your book, remember? You've told me things. Besides." He cracked a shell, and flicked it aside. "You'd have to be blind not to see you two need the time together."

"We're fine," Hawke said patiently, although they had again reverted into that state of non-communication - the same thing that had happened over the three years of their relationship being in limbo. "It's different now," he said out loud. "The priorities have changed for now, what with us leaving Kirkwall."

"Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?"

Hawke huffed, and was about to open his mouth to respond when there was crashing of leaves and twigs and Fenris came exploding through the brush, Blade of Mercy held aloft.

Hawke stared, the unease slow in prickling through his veins. Varric was staring, too.

"I don't know who they are," Fenris panted, "but they're on their wa-" He collapsed to his knees, catching himself with the hand that wasn't white-knuckling the blade, and Hawke noticed the arrow protruding from the back of the elf's leg for the first time since he'd burst into the makeshift camp.

And Hawke couldn't move. He was frozen to the ground with ice beneath his feet. (Not really. He could have dealt with that.) There was nothing preventing him from moving, save the crushing weight on his chest, and the fear pressing down on his shoulders. "Fenris..."

"Now's not the time for pause, Hawke!" Varric dove past him, grabbing Bianca.

Hawke snapped out of it, lunging forward to kneel down next to Fenris. "Hold on," he said. "It's going to hurt." Before Fenris could respond, Hawke jerked the arrow free, cringing at the noise Fenris tried to strangle into his skin. It wasn't the first time he'd had to pull an arrow free of his companion's skin; it wouldn't be the last, either, he was sure. It never stopped being so _horrible_.

He sheathed the Blade of Mercy and spun on his knees. "Get on my back."

"I can wal-"

"Now is _not_ the time, you two!" Varric hissed. "We need to move!"

Fenris wasted no more time, locking his arms around Hawke's neck and Hawke staggered back to his feet. "Hang on."

The elf wrapped his legs around Hawke's torso and tucked his head into the crook of Hawke's neck. He was in pain, Hawke could feel it through the way he was hanging onto him, the tension radiating through the elf's small frame.

They could fight, but how many would end up dead for the sake of their lives? It was a question that plagued Hawke. So, they fought only when necessary.

For now, they ran.

 

Fenris was nearly comatose by the time they stopped.

"Fenris- _Fenris._ "

"He'll be fine," Varric said, slumping to the ground. "Those arrows, they were coated in a poison."

Hawke felt the cold fill his veins again. He turned to look at the dwarf. "Poison?"

"In a sense. Meant to incapacitate rather than kill. Whoever they were, they wanted us alive." Varric sighed heavily. "I think."

"You _think_?"

"I don't know for certain, Hawke. If he makes it through the next few hours, he'll make it clear."

And so they sat in relative silence for the next few hours, amidst the small gasps and moans that came from his perhaps-poisoned maybe-boyfriend, Fenris's head cradled in Hawke's lap and Varric watching a few feet away.

When Fenris opened his eyes blearily the next time, Hawke wanted nothing more than to crush him against his chest and pull him into a kiss and hold him and _never let him leave_ ; he settled for a weak smile and spouted off some joke he didn't remember the moment after he said it.

Fenris fell back asleep with his head still on Hawke's lap, and Hawke stayed awake and stroked the strands of greasy, silver hair.

He was dog tired by the time the sun rose, and Varric woke up and looked at them for a moment before speaking for the first time since they'd settled.

"Three's a crowd," he repeated.

Hawke looked at him listlessly. "... You don't have to go."

"Trust me, Hawke, you don't want me to stay. Frankly, I don't want to stay, either. You're going doe-eyed whenever you look at him... You both need to work things out." Varric held his hands out. "You don't need to watch over us forever. We can look after ourselves. Look after yourself, now."

That was easier said than done.

 

 

Hawke startled awake with a gasp, clawing at his throat and for his staff he no longer carried. He couldn't even remember what he had been dreaming of, but his heart was crashing in his chest and the sweat drenching his body prickled at his skin uncomfortably.

"Hawke," a familiar voice rumbled. "Everything is fine. It's just a nightmare."

A nightmare. A _nightmare_. It was a nightmare. It was all a nightmare.

"Hawke." Fenris touched at Hawke's shoulder.

Hawke flinched.

He flinched. Had he actually- Yes, he had, going by the way Fenris's hand had snapped away as though he'd been jolted with electricity. And it wasn't that, it wasn't _Fenris_ , it was just... he was tired and hot and sweaty, driven on by adrenaline and a lack of good sleep and the months upon _months_ of living like this-

"I'm sorry," Fenris was saying. "Forgive me."

Hawke groaned, grabbing at Fenris's wrist and pulling him against his chest. Fenris's elbow slipped against the blankets they were sleeping on on the dusty hardwood floor, and the elf crashed down onto his chest with a soft gasp.

"It's not you," Hawke muttered. "It's me. I'm a mess."

"You are not a mess. You're always so strong," Fenris said shortly. "I have always admired it."

"I am a mess," Hawke replied succinctly. It was almost a relief to say the words out loud. "I've been a mess since we left."

"You couldn't prove it by me."

Hawke sighed, tucking Fenris's head under his chest. "You're just saying that."

"I am not." Fenris pulled away, propping himself up again, so that he could look at Hawke - who studiously turned away to hide his face. "Don't do that," Fenris retorted, gripping his chin. "Why won't you look at me? Hawke."

"I'm not exactly at the top of my game here, Fenris," Hawke said tiredly, eyes searching his.

"You've kept us safe," Fenris said slowly. "You chose a side and you saw it through. You left the Knight-Commander dead. You took us with you on exile. Protected us, even the ones who did not deserve that protection," the warrior said, a little darkly. And continued, "If you have withdrawn, you are not without reason. But they are safe. And so are we."

"We're on the run. I wouldn't consider that _safe_."

"We are not dead," Fenris said.

Hawke snorted. "Yet."

"I will let nothing hurt you," Fenris replied, and then shifted to slowly rest his head on Hawke's chest. Tentatively, even, and Hawke again sighed through his teeth before looping an arm around the elf's shoulders. He may have been a mess, but he didn't want to push Fenris away because of it. In fact, now that it was just them... just him and Fenris... it was all the more reason to hold him closer, tighter. He needed him like he needed the air to breathe. Wanted him, too.

"It does not do to dwell on regrets. Or to have them at all," Fenris rumbled, tucked up against his body for the first time in... Hawke had lost track. "I do not regret the decisions we have made. My only regret is that it pains you to live with them."

"Isn't this the part where you're supposed to say that it's better to live with regrets than to not be alive at all?" Hawke joked weakly.

"That is true, I suppose," Fenris granted, "but painful nonetheless."

"Sorry." Hawke paused, and then pushed on. "I'm sorry to have been neglecting you as well."

"You have been busy. With us, as well as in here." Fenris tapped at Hawke's head. "I have not reached out to you, either. In truth, I tend to mull over my worry in silence, as well."

"Don't tell me you've been worried over me."

"I will not tell you, then."

Hawke laughed dryly. "Thanks for that." He sighed, and pushed his fingers through Fenris's hair gently. "Whatever has happened, and come what may... it's just you and me, Fenris."

"Mmm." Fenris tucked himself slightly closer, curling into Hawke's body. "I like the sound of that."

"... Me, too."

"I am your company, and your companion. I will share your joys, your hardships, and your burdens." Coming from Fenris, it sounded like more a vow than an absentminded idea. The thought of that warmed Hawke more than he would admit out loud. At least he had Fenris. He had a mess, and he had had to watch out for all of his friends, but ever after all of that, at least he had Fenris. Fenris hadn't... left, even now.

"Since when are you so philosophical?" he teased, poking at the tip of Fenris's ear.

Fenris shook his head violently, hair flinging into Hawke's face before he swatted at Hawke's hand. "I am tired."

"And you get philosophical when you're tired. Of course." Hawke shifted his other arm from beneath his head, wrapping it around Fenris, too.

Fenris yawned widely, reaching for their blanket. "Sleep now, Hawke. I will be here when you awaken. We will work through these problems we keep, slowly and surely."

"You're really preaching tonight. Starting to remind me of someone else."

"Do not jest. Elthina's sermons were interesting, to say the least."

"Yes..." Hawke pressed his lips against the top of his head quickly. "Go to sleep, Fenris."

"Yes," Fenris agreed. "And Hawke?"

"Yeah?"

"You will tell me when you're not okay, in the future."

Hawke looked down at the top of the elf's head. The man who could say so little and yet say so much when it mattered. He smiled softly. "Yeah. You as well, Fenris. You as well."

　

 

"Where to, Fenris?"

Fenris's hair blew in the breeze as the ship swayed gently beneath their feet. "Hmm?"

"Everyone else has gone to their new life. Where do you want to go?" And he knew what he wanted to say, and what he wanted Fenris to say-

"I will remain by your side."

Hawke laughed out loud, half in reflex, half in relief. " _That's_ a line I haven't heard in ages!"

Fenris turned to look at him. "The concept has never changed."

Hawke wrapped his arm around the elf's waist, pulling him close. "Just as the concept that I love you hasn't changed, either."

"I still remain to be, unconditionally, yours."

Hawke tilted his head down. "Are you trying to out-romance me?"

"Never," Fenris replied coyly.

Hawke grinned and leaned up, capturing the elf's chin between his fingers and kissing his lips.

"Take yer hopped-up PDA below deck!" someone snapped from nearby, and Hawke resurfaced with a chuckle; he kept forgetting there were other people on board this ship.

"Shall we?" he asked, holding his out to Fenris.

"I would find that agreeable," Fenris replied, taking it.

Hawke would never be able to deny the flutter of excitement - of _belonging_ \- every time Fenris put his hand in his. They could be on the ass end of the universe, tracked by scouts and battling stray darkspawn and corpses, running for their lives, and each time Fenris touched him? He was home.

He was home.

 


End file.
